Author's Notes: Like you probably have noticed, this is an R rated story, and this will start earning the rating from this chapter on. For disclaimer and other stuff, see ch 1, or the prologue to be more exact..

And without further ado, Who-Am-I-0-0 proudly presents:

The confessions of a Death Eater:

Chapter One: The Meeting

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"Life here for her was no longer a picture book for children, which you look at and then throw away. She knew she had to live this book, and now she had a feeling that there was something fearfully compelling about the book…"

Pessi and Illusia, by Yrjö Kokko, 1944

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Three weeks had gone without Draco touching the diary. He hadn't touched it since the night of his birthday. Then he hadn't known how to continue and he had been interrupted by his mother telling him to come down for his birthday-dinner. He had quickly hidden the diary to his trunk. After that he had been scared , scared of what he might write, scared of the memories it might wake. Of course to the outside he had kept his facade, he had had a lot oh practice for that lately.

It was now middle of the night and Draco had woken up from a dream he could half remember. Something about it bothered him. Faces, some of which he knew, some he had never seen, pleading him not to hurt them. His mother had been there, too, crying. Why, he had no idea. The dream was starting to fade and soon all he could remember of it was the anxiety it had left in him.

He quietly opened his trunk - he didn't want to wake the others up, it would have disturbed his plan - and dug out the leather-bound diary. He had a sudden urge to write. He thought of the Death Eater meeting his father had taken him to after his glorious birthday meal. (Everything about the Malfoys had to be glorious, both in good and bad. Of course the latter was never mentioned, but everyone knew.) The horrid images filled his mind and he felt as if he was back in that night. He tried to calm down to be able to write. He had to get it out of his system somehow and writing about it in his diary seemed the healthiest option, and safest.

I attended a Death Eater meeting. It was my first but I do not think it will remain my last. Father and I Apparated to the place it was held, where, I do not know. It seemed to be a small castle or a mansion. I couldn't tell anything of the landscape since a fog, magical I'm sure, was surrounding the building. You couldn't have told whether it was in the middle of the night or bright day outside. Inside it was the darkest night.

The hall we were in was slowly filling with dark-robed and masked figures. Father had lend me matching ones – how very thoughtful of him. A few people I could recognise from simply the way they were standing or walking. (I could write down a list of names but I doubt it'd do any good.) At this point everybody was wearing their masks.

Suddenly everybody went quiet and tensed. It did not take me long to figure out what was going to happen. Seemingly out of thin air (they did not Apparate, I am sure of that) appeared first Pettigrew and shortly after a figure who had to be Lord Voldemort. Small, hunch-backed and didn't seem impressive before he turned his burning red eyes on you. No one could hold his gaze longer than just a few short moments. I repeated in my mind like a mantra "crazy half-blood, crazy half-blood" and tried to stay calm. Luckily his eyes didn't reach mine.

I concentrated so hard on keeping my pose that I missed most of what was said in the first part of the meeting. Then suddenly most people left, via Portkeys. Now that I think of it, maybe the Inner Circle is allowed to Apparate to these little gatherings. There were only a dozen people or so left now. Father wordlessly guided me with the others to a smaller room upstairs. This was, as was soon told me, the Inner Circle. People started taking of their masks but the atmosphere was far from relaxed, it was in fact even more tense. Father told me to take of my mask as well and as I complied, I spotted Severus Snape. As he noticed me, I saw something in his eyes that could have been surprise, disappointment or merely a trick of light. A moment later the mask he wore as a face was intact again.

Voldemort (I decided not to call him 'Lord', at least not here) came in and started a speech about mudbloods and muggles and their numerous flaws. He included his magnificent plans to bring down Dumbledore, Potter and other 'scum-loving idiots'.  I, again, was not concentrated on this bigoted crap and was woken from my reverie as I heard him mention my name. Suddenly alert again, I heard him introduce me and tell me that I was given this honour to attend the Inner Circle meeting because of my father's loyalty and that I was expected to follow in his footsteps soon. Then he told that he had a little 'treat' for the occasion.

About ten people were brought in. Muggles and wizards alike, in the eyes of some the uppermost emotion was puzzlement and of the rest sheer terror. Voldemort lifted his wand to cast a spell I didn't recognise. A young man standing close to me started shaking. From his face I could see he was fighting back a scream. He must have been a wizard, and a fairly strong one considering how long he could hold it in. Eventually he broke and terrified I watched as he fell on his knees and uttered an awful cry. It was not loud but so desperate and hopeless, filled with sadness and yet in a peculiar way rebellious. Had he seen something in my eyes? I wish I knew who he was...

As if on que they all took their wands and started throwing curses at the people who had barely had time to register what had happened to the first one who was again and again hit by various curses by Voldemort.

Some used the traditional cruciatus-curse but most were a bit more ..creative. I watched mesmerised as one was ripped open from the inside, as if something was in him and trying to claw its way out. Deep wounds appeared as he screamed in agony.

Screams filled the air, ear-piercing screams, faces contorted with pain convulsing limbs blood from deep wounds screams pain pettigrew raping the young wizard thrusting in him violently the pain in his eyes a single tear in the corner of his eye pain cries 

At this point Draco's quill snapped into two. Sweating and breath coming in short gasps Draco stared at the page. The ink was smeared in places and instinctly he touched his cheek. It was wet, with sweat and something that had to be tears. It took Draco a while to realise that it in fact was him who was sobbing quietly in the dark dormitory. Malfoys do not cry.

Draco was exhausted now and silvery tears running down his cheek he lowered his head on his pillow with one thought in his head. During the whole meeting, and it had gone on for what must have been hours, Professor Snape had not lifted his wand to torture the victims, and Draco was fairly sure he had been the only one to notice.

As sleep finally claimed him he pondered whether he should go see the Potions Master about this. 

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Author's Notes: Thank you chisox727 and Scoopy for reviewing the prologue (and I'll keep the title then, at least for now..)

Please tell me what you think and remember that constructive criticism is always welcome!